


The Darkness at the End of the Tunnel

by Emily_Grimm



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_Grimm/pseuds/Emily_Grimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of dark short stories.  There is no single character.  Each chapter revolves around a new character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of Love

**Author's Note:**

> A boy will do almost anything out of love.

From his bedroom he can hear his mother in the kitchen; the sound of a running faucet, the scrape of a dish scrubber against a plate, the clank of cups being haphazardly stuffed into the dishwasher. Out his window he hears the world carry on; laughing children, barking dogs, speeding cars.

It will be easy, wrapped in their own problems, no one will notice, no one will care.

His little sister sits in her room singing along with the radio as she dresses her favorite Barbie. Quietly, he watches her from the door and smiles at her innocence.

The world will ruin her. 

She tries to scream, but his hand covers her mouth. Little fingers scratch at him as he presses his forearm hard into her neck, crushing. Tears run down his creeks after he realizes she’s stopped struggling. For a moment he holds her small body in his arms and mourns her before carrying her to bed and tucking her in.

Now she’ll stay beautiful, uncorrupted forever. 

His mother still oblivious to his sins stands over the sink humming. He knows how strong she is, how she fights for her family every day.

Her husband tried to break her, still tries to break her.

A smile only a son can bring graces her face. It’s torn away by horror as she feels a knife being forced once into her side and once again into her back. He pulls the knife out only to slide it across her neck. She slumps to the floor, choking on her own blood.

Now she won’t suffer his absence, he can hurt her no longer.

He knows he’ll feel the burn of regret far beyond the last of his breaths. On the floor he curls into himself as he stares at the ground decorated in viscous red. He drags a finger through it and brings it to his tongue. He sighs, elongated and painful. He winces at the bite of cold metal against his throat. A quick thrust and twist of his wrist and he knows it won’t be long. Falling on his side he patiently waits.


	2. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zombies aren't the only dangerous thing out there.

They were behind us, relentlessly following us. I think our fear attracted them, others wouldn‘t agree; saying that it was our heat, our heartbeat, or our aura. Either way, they were attracted to us and either way we still ran from them. Their moans grew louder as more joined them. They were an endless army, an army that would continue to grow as long as we still continued to exist. So we ran faster, not looking where we were going. We were running so fast that we took an accidental descent that landed us at the edge of a broken city. The towers here have crumbled and the bridges have collapsed and like all the others it still held beauty. It reminded us of a time when there were still cities, of a time when we didn’t have to hide in fear of them. Times have changed since. Now, the grass no longer grows and the pavement has turned to the dust in which travelers’ footprints lay embedded, waiting for the next wind to erase their existence. It is in this broken city that we knew we would be able to find our niche. We felt safe here though we knew these places were the most dangerous to reside. So here in this city we slept.

Tossing and turning; everyone tried to run from the terrors that their dreams held. The terrors of locked away memories, of people they once knew and lives they once lived. Dreams seemed to hold what was being repressed during conscious times; fear, anger, despair, and most of all sadness. Mine, they held the screams from my family. Every night I relived their last agonizing screams and the looks upon their faces when they realized I would not help them. This time the screams were louder and there were more. 

When we awoke we realized that this was not our haven. This broken warren was like all the others, filled with those things with the insatiable appetites. We first realized our mistake in trusting this place after we had already lost two members of our group. It was their screams that I heard in addition to the ones I dreamt. It was their screams that woke us. Five of us remained after the attack. We didn’t realize that there were so many of those damned things. The city didn’t have the unpleasant smell that accompanied them, they weren’t wandering about. We thought they had found prey and followed. We were wrong. It was the drone like humming that all their combined moans made that insinuated that there was many more coming. So, again we grabbed what we could and we ran. We ran, for what seemed like forever, along the dusty path hoping the wind was on our side and that it would cover our prints and blow the scent of our fear away. I remember the road curved and at that curve we decided that we could stop running and finally walk. Also at the curve we could see a body of water, a lake to be exact. 

Our hearts leapt with joy as we headed towards the water with aspirations of cleaning our clothes and having cool, fresh, water to pour over our heads. The sun was high and gave us no sympathy; there was none in this new world. There was only survival. When we arrived at the lake our hearts fell into our stomachs and our jaws dropped to the floor. There was no body of water. There was no lake. Yes, at one point this had been a lake, but now it was nothing more than an open grave. It was apparent that the lake had been a dumping site from when the end of human kind began. Hundreds of rotting bodies now lay strewn in this old lake. The lake was no longer filled with water, just bodies that had been turning slightly blue-ish green from decomposition. Ghosts from a happier time now haunted the lake. A single rope hung from a branch of a dead tree slightly swaying back and forth, asking… no, begging to be used one last time. We could hear the sound of splashing and laughter. We could almost see dogs chasing balls and people swimming in the lake… almost. Memories seemed to linger there with the ghosts. So, our journey continued, our niche still unfound and our lives still in peril. 

The sun left and the moon came for the 6th time since we left the city, having mercy upon us with its shade. We no longer counted minutes and hours, we lost all instruments to do so. Instead we counted sunrises and sunsets. I say we, but what I really mean is that I counted sunrises and sunsets. No one else really seemed to care, but doing this one small thing allowed me to keep my sanity. Everyone else that I traveled with only cared to stay alive. Yet, that care was wearing thin on some within our group. What’s the point of living when there is nothing to live for? Everything has been destroyed. Only small patches of survivors still existed. Everyone else had died. They died, they rose up, and then they ate. It is from them, the resurrected, that we run. 

Ahead a thick of trees gave our minds some comfort, knowing we could hide among them; hunt for clean animals during the day and sleep peacefully at night. It was still night when we heard their moans. These moans were different, they were new. The moans sounded like the vocals of someone that had only been dead for a short amount of time. This to us meant that there was more of their kind in this forest, where we sought refuge. Silently, we packed. Quietly, we moved. We were still searching for our niche. Although we lived in the forest for 15 so called days, we never ran into other survivors. Yet, the still moist moans gave clue that some had lived in the forest with us. Maybe if we had looked harder we might have found them. We might have been able to save each other. Form a larger group and keep each other more protected from the resurrected. The moist moans were silenced and we stopped moving; we waited for the sun to better light our way, laying down our bags and sitting in silence, our ears searching for the slightest sounds. 

Restless now, I had to move. We had sat in silence and heard nothing. So still in the cover of the dark I tried to quietly leave the group. It was not smart of me, I know. The moment I left that group though was the moment that changed my history. Clinging to the trees I walked in the dark. Then I heard the singing, beautiful voices floated in the air. The song was rhythmic, calming, and luring. So, towards it I moved. Curious to know what it was for and who it was coming from. Then I saw them, sitting peacefully in a circle as if the world had never changed. You could feel the calming aura that they gave and could almost feel a sense of normalcy in them. That being things such as friends going on a camping trip, singing ol’ campfire songs and telling ghost stories. Cautiously, I approached them, hands raised and speaking full clear words. They looked at me with curiosity. Finally, one woman, the person I would have assumed to be in charge walked over to me. She had the most enchanting eyes I had ever seen. Offering her hand in peace I grabbed it and followed her. She took me to their camp, proclaiming “A single person can do us no damage.” They had no idea what a single person could do. Blindly I followed her. When we arrived the people greeted me with warm clothes and fresh water. Oh the water was wonderful. Something I had not tasted in such a long time. 

Now, around a much smaller fire we congregated. Here, I learned that these people have not left the woods since the first hints of the apocalypse. They asked questions of what the world now looked liked and how many of those things there were. I answered truthfully and saw every single one of their hearts break as it dawned upon them that humanity would cease to exist much sooner than expected. 

It was my turn now, my turn to ask the questions. I asked what they were doing out in the woods so open like that. I asked why exactly they came out to the woods. There was no fallacy in their replies, not from what I could tell. The woman who had been the first to welcome me told me that they were a group of people who had been prepared for the apocalypse. They didn’t consider themselves a cult, just prepared for the ending of the world. Saying “Humanity was bringing destruction upon itself, we could see that, hence, our decision to make a home in the woods. When news of this catastrophe reached the media we knew it was our time to leave the rest of the world and seclude ourselves. So far we have only had to deal with the loss of one person and their death was natural. As you can see we have flourished. The earth provides us with fresh food and we worship it for that”. Finally, the woman told me that the woods were safe. “In the assumed years that they had been here they had not encountered resurrected beings and it was easy enough to tell the clean animals from the infected ones.”

After our long conversations and some fresh food I told the people here about my group and how we heard fresh moans. They didn’t seem worried and said that we may rest comfortably here until we were ready to leave if we wanted to leave at all. Four men volunteered to come with me to grab the rest of my old group. 

When we reached my other group we found nothing but backpacks, the people that the bags had belonged to were gone. There was no blood, we had heard no screams. Could they have just disappeared? Frightened and confused we grabbed the bags and ran. We ran back to other group and told them what we had discovered. The feeling of worry was strong. It could be sensed on almost every person. A meeting was held and as a small group of leaders, I guess we could be called; we discussed what we should do. It was decided that even though the forest had been their sanctuary for quite some time it was no longer safe and we would have to move. Of course there was uproar when this announced to the rest. A long debate took place and finally everyone agreed on a solution. People that wanted to stay would. Overall, there were 15 people myself included, that wanted to leave the forest. So we left. The forest was larger than I had expected, it took us a long while to find our way out. 

It was beginning to get cold, winter was setting upon us. On the cusp of freezing to death we found salvation; a small town. Similar to those towns found in the old westerns. It had saloon with wooden swinging doors, a jail house, a market, and for our convenience a single floor motel. It was a small enough place that we preformed a sweep of the entire place and only found 3 fully dead bodies. The town was clean enough. Deciding to sleep in pairs we each coupled off and claimed rooms. It felt nice to sleep on beds. The water wasn’t running and there was no electricity, but that was okay, we had beds. Nice, soft beds to rest our heads on.

Here in this small town, we spent our winter. Living off the supplies in the convenience stores and the food and water we took from camp. Once in awhile we were lucky enough to find and catch a coyote or elk. Since burning fires were to risky, fires always attracted them, we would make sun dried jerky. It was still food though and we were grateful to eat it. One can only live off spam for so long. It was slightly odd that during our duration in this town we only encountered 4 resurrected. We could smell them way before we could hear or see them. That was primarily how we were able to kill them quickly.

After the snow had melted we choose to continue on our way. There was a dust covered cobble stone path leading from the town to a large area enclosed in a tall rust covered gate. Inside this gate a graveyard claimed its home. Hundreds of people were buried here. We could hear them stirring in their coffins, clawing at the lids, yearning to be released from their dark homes. This place was evil and we could sense that. So, we left almost as soon as we arrived. The trees were beginning to look alive again with beautiful green leaves starting to emerge. The land we treaded was lush. We savored this moment, because we knew it would not last. It had been a couple of sun rises since we left the small town, when we came across a bright red back pack. This normally would have meant nothing to me, but I recognized it. It had belonged to one of the people I had traveled with before. 

The back pack was full; it had clothes and some small portions of food. Overjoyed by the thought I might be reconnected with a friend I yelled her name as loud as possible. I yelled and walked around the area I found the back pack but never heard a response. I decided to just pick it up and walk with it incase I found her. Being so profoundly happy that my old friends might be close, I ran ahead of the group. I wanted to try to catch up. Then I smelled them. The dead were here. The dead were my friends and they were hoarded together. I knew I should have yelled or ran back to others. I knew I should have warned them, but I didn’t. Hastily, I climbed up tree and waited. The zombies moved below me. A few noticed me but were too enticed by the larger group to linger. Several minutes later, I heard screaming and gun shots. Then silence, which could only be taken as a bad sign. I called out, but received no reply. I climbed down the tree and cautiously made my way in the direction of the zombies. Sure enough the zombies had won the war. Leaving the larger group, once again, had saved my life. I quickly turned and ran. I ran as fast as I could. I needed to put distance between me and the ever hungry undead.

As I ran I thought back to my family and how I had basically offered them to the undead so that I could live. I remembered their horrified faces, not for the zombies, but for me locking them in the house with the zombies. I remembered leaving the group because I got bored. That saved my life. I held no regrets doing that. Then this, I could have warned them. They, no we, could have been prepared and fought them, possibly with only a few causalities. Alas, I choose my guaranteed safety instead. I let them die, at least this time they didn’t know it. Remorse shot through my veins briefly, but it was replaced with relief because I was still alive. Still, I knew I had to keep running. I had to live. When I could run no more, I laid down. With no one to keep watch I expected death to find me. I almost welcomed it. Much to my surprise it was a warm hand that woke me from my slumber. A new group of people, a small group, but a new group nonetheless. The hand belonged to a man, who said I could join his group. I accepted without hesitation. 

Walking with another group I began to think. The more I thought the more questions that arose. Would I stay with them? Would I warn them next time I encounter the resurrected? There would be a next time, there always is. Would I finally feel bad about it or had I lost my conscience completely? No, I mostly likely wouldn’t stay with them. I would only warn them or help them fight if I was guaranteed to live. Finally, no… no, I would not feel bad if I let them die so I could live. I felt bad for leaving my own flesh and blood, but I have gotten over that. I am determined to survive this apocalypse and will use any sources to do so. That includes other human lives. At that point I decided I am more dangerous than any zombie hoard. It’s just unfortunate for the company I keep that they can’t see it.


	3. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All he wanted was to make her smile.

He watched her as she slept; it has always been one of his past times since they started dating. It was peaceful to watch her chest move in a rhythmic pattern as she inhaled then exhaled. Each rise of her chest a form of solace and each fall a step towards euphoria. His graze moved from her chest to her face and all the pleasant feelings drained. Her cheeks pale and her make up ruined; mascara covering dried tears and lipstick smeared around her lovely mouth. 

Her misery was completely his fault, it always was. Every action a new measurement of the pain he could cause. He hated himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t stop himself; the temptation to plentiful and his willpower not strong enough. His silver tongue fed her lie after lie and she ate them up as absolute truths. Each one always ended embarrassment and tears. 

“No more, no, not anymore.” He told himself as he watched her sleep. He would make her smile from now on. A permanent smile, he would give her, decorating her face, lighting up his dark life. Leaning down he brushed his lips against hers, she did not stir. Once more he pressed his lips to hers and whispered “I love youalways.” against them. Still she did not stir and that was good enough for him.

Taking a gauze pad soaked in alcohol he wiped her left check. Holding a needle with a pair of tweezers he stuck it into the flame of a lighter until it glowed an alluring orange. Once it cooled he strung a length of deep red thread, to complement her beautiful porcelain skin, through the eye. Gently he hooked a finger inside her cheek tugged it up towards her eyes. With a sturdy hand he pierced the inside of her cheek with his needle and pushed through to the other side. He pulled the thread until he met resistance from the knot at the end, which refused to go through the small hole in her cheek. Blood dripped from the small hole, inviting him to lick it away, he moaned at the taste of iron on his tongue. Pulling away he shook his head to clear the temptation of sucking the blood out of the wound. Looping the thread back inside her mouth, he pierced another hole next to the first one and pulled the thread until it refused to go any further. Feeling content with his work he ties the thread off on the inside of her check. There’s more blood and dutifully he drank it. 

Not so gently he turned her head and prepared her right cheek. He repeated the process, again savoring the taste of her blood with each lick. When he finished he admired his work; the lovely way her upper lip reveals white, perfect, teeth made him smile. To him she is most beautiful when she smiles and now she’ll smile all time. No longer when he comes home late nor when she finds out about his latest one off will she frown at him and make him feel guilty. No, she will smile at him and let him admire her beauty. He grabs the baby monitors by his side and turns them on, setting one next to her and keeping one with him. Walking out of the room he smiles and wonders just how much she’ll love what he’s done for her.


	4. The Time in Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last milliseconds are the most potent.

Garrett wasn’t unsatisfied with life. He considered himself to have quite a good life. He had a gorgeous girlfriend, a good job and in general was a successful adult; at least in traditional society. What ate away at Garret was his lack of experience. Sure he went to college, traveled to foreign countries, fucked his share of women and even a very effeminate man, but he still didn’t feel like he accomplished anything with his life. In the grand scheme, Garrett doubted that he had a lasting impact on anyone. He had never been anyone’s muse, never was the cause of immense happiness or sadness and most certainly never did anything worth remembering. At the age of 29 Garrett felt his life worthless. This is what tormented him.  
He stood in the door of his bedroom and watched his girlfriend sleep, thinking her truly the embodiment of total beauty. With silent footsteps he walked the narrow, hardwood, hallway to the study at the end. He sat at his easel, stained with violent reds, cool greens and a marriage of the two resulting in sickly browns faintly reminiscent of dried blood. Garrett stared at his current painting, though all the pieces painted and the canvas dry he couldn’t deem it worthy. The beauty in it wasn’t truth. At best he found it manipulative, conveying delusions of grandeur to observers. A groan of frustration left him as he realized there would be no fixing it. Defeated he left turned his back on his art.  
In the corner of the study stood a small safe. Crouching in front of it Garrett twisted the knob left, then right and then left again. He heard the sound of gears unlocking and he pulled the door open. An object swaddled in a black leather case sat on the top shelf. Garrett reached for it, when his hand made contact he flinched, pulling his hand away as if he’d been burned. Scoffing Garrett reached for it again. It was heavy in his hand, comforting and terrifying all at the same time.  
Garrett found himself in front of his easel again. Staring at it, trying to figure out how to make truth of its lies, how to make it worthy. The black leather case sat in his lap, a reminder to finish his contemplations. It was then he realized how to make his work something to remember. He unsnapped the buckle of the case, pulling out the small gun that had been tucked inside. Steadily, he removed the safety and brought the gun to the side of his head. Garrett was not scared, he even fancied himself excited. This would fix all his inner demons and their taunting.  
It was milliseconds in between the pulling of trigger and the impact of the bullet that clarity revealed herself. She was the flash of his girlfriend’s smile and echo of his heart frantically beating as he leaned in to kiss her the first time. She transformed into the face of his best friend laughing at a joke, then she was his little sister screaming in delight as he swung her around. Clarity then became his art, splashes of bright colors filled with joy and cool colors filled with serenity; painting a picture of his life, complete and perfect in every way. After this realization Garrett only had to think “No, no, no! I’m not ready!”


End file.
